Special Kind of Retard
by LeoOsaka Bakura's stalker
Summary: Eiri Yuki takes a moment to ponder a thing or two about Shuichi and he discovers he's crazy. But for some reason it doesn't really bother him.


_Leo: This is my boredom making me type. I'm not the world's biggest Gravitation fan ever, but it was a hilarious manga series. And since I'm a big advocate of humor, I couldn't resist just a little one shot at least. It's just a little one shot from Eiri Yuki's point of view. This may be the first time I follow a cannon XD._

**Special Kind of Retard**

You know what's marvelous? Absolutely astounding and somewhat ironic as well? I've been staring at the cursor, wondering how I'm going to start this. As a writer, a novelist if you will, this should be easy to begin. Some how, I'm being thwarted. The words don't flow in the same manner as they do when I'm mapping out a complex novel. My life, or at least my thoughts, should be easy to muse on. It should flow like water the thoughts that I have every time I look in the mirror, when I open my laptop to begin work, or at least even when I look at Shuichi. Though, this is not taking into account that I'm mostly thinking horrible, utterly disturbed thoughts when I look at him. It's more out of fear, I think. But this lack of flow is perturbing. Perhaps it would be wisest, if I stopped trying to word and plan this so well. Being a novelist for a living makes for difficulty in performing menial tasks, even if I've only opened a simple nameless notepad document on my computer to do this.

I suppose Shuichi is the topic of choice. I'm not sure exactly why I tolerate the little bitch. He's whiney, spacey and such a drama queen. Actually, I think he outranks the queen and goes straight to emperor of the universe for that one. I've never seen a person so outrageous and frustrating. It's a wonder I don't vomit blood straight into my early grave. But of all things, I think his top ranking quality is his retardedness. Not that his other qualities aren't high ranking. Spazz is the best word in the universe for him. If I had my way, he would have that word tattooed to his forehead as a warning to all others crazy enough to talk to him.

That makes me a crazy bastard then doesn't it? I shouldn't give two shits about that little flaming punk. I guess it's the stupid little things he does that keep me from shoving a screwdriver through his forehead. Or maybe it's my distaste for staining my clothes with blood that stops me. I haven't decided quite yet. Give me about ten minutes and I'll have a definitive answer, I'm sure.

But in all seriousness, he makes me wonder and I don't even know what sort of way he makes me wonder. Actually, he makes me wonder a lot of things. Like how many times his parents dropped him on his head as a child. How high he can make his voice go before shattering glass. When the hell does he take in all the water that some how comes pouring out his eyes every other damn minute. Why did I let him even talk to me? Why do I let him talk to Ryuuichi? Should I kick Seguchi's ass just for the hell of it? (Okay that one was all on my own thinking.) How does he manage to stay so happy when I act like I hate his guts? Why does he act like I'm so fucking awesome?

He confuses me.

And I don't like it. At all.

But I guess…maybe I don't have to understand him. I just have to tolerate and restrain myself from throwing him out random windows when they're available. I beat the shit out of an Ask band member for him. If anything I should be getting some compensation here. Instead, he pelts me with shitty lyrics and that face that practically screams; 'love me'! Even though his mouth screams it at the same time. It's two doses of the same thing at the same time and it's painful.

I feel stupid for writing this all down, but relived at the same time. My therapist said writing would help me. It did. Granted no one will ever see this but me and if someone did find this they would think I were crazy for narrating my thoughts as if I were talking to someone. Well you know what; fuck you, invisible reader. I write how I want to write and I talk about what I want to. I needed to get it off my chest. Maybe one day I'll actually consider talking to that girly bitch that's sleeping in my bed as I sit up and type this. He sleeps like the dead; which is wonderful, because I can light up as many damn cigarettes as I want to.

I look over at him occasionally. He looks less retarded when he's sleeping. Well, sometimes…sometimes he's drooling his own private ocean in his sleep, but not tonight. Tonight he looks…actually…quite charming. Not that I would ever tell him that. I think he would die of joy and I don't want him to die in such a pleasant way.

It's past one now. The pressure on my nerves has lifted. So there's really no reason to continue. I guess I just needed to talk about him, unrestricted for a change. I may have to do this more often. He'd never know I wasn't writing on a novel. He's not observant. He craves attention too much to notice small things like that. He craves my attention too much. I'm not used to having someone want my attention for a reason that has no ulterior motives. He's a special kind of retard. One that I…

Well…Let's just say I think I need some retardation in my life and leave it at that.

**Eiri Yuki**

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_Leo: Short, but it's just what I needed D! I feel better having written it._


End file.
